


Parvus unum Mutare -- One Small Change

by Vicxx



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Good Slytherins, Hogwarts, M/M, Pining, Slytherin, Slytherin!Harry, happy!harry, wholesome!Harry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-08 23:49:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vicxx/pseuds/Vicxx
Summary: Essentially, what if instead of being left with the Dursleys, McGonagall raised Harry herself? ****I DO NOT OWN ANY HARRY POTTER CHARACTERS,SETTINGS,OR PLOT******* Will inevitably be Drarry, is me playing with a lot of different headcanons, we'll see how this goes?





	1. Diagon Alley

**Author's Note:**

> The start of what I'm hoping is a long and healthy universe. This headcanon has been rattling around in my brain for a lot longer than I expected, and now it's 1am and I've spent 3 hours writing without realising it. JUST A WARNING! Updates are gonna be hit and miss, I'm a college student and not a fulltime writer, so it'll be when I have (1) ideas, and (2) inspiration. I hope you like it!

“Harry, do keep up. I’d like to be done with our errands before September.”

“Yes, Minnie.” Harry stretched his short legs out, hurrying to keep up with her, nearly skidding on the slick steps. Minerva McGonagall wasted no time in flicking a spell at his trainers, to give them more traction— Harry was desperately clumsy. “Seven years in this castle, you’d think you would remember the steps are slippery.” She said wryly, and Harry stuck his tongue out at her.

Scottish summer wind buffeted them as they strode down the path from Hogwarts, heading for the edge of the wards. “I still don’t see why we _have_ to go to Diagon. I live here! I could just get my stuff here!”

Minerva huffed, “We’ve had this conversation, Harry. It’s a rite of passage to go to Diagon as a first year. And you won’t be riding the train, so you can’t miss this as well.” She smirked then, “Besides, I’d have thought you’d be excited to go to the Menagerie.” 

Harry _did_ like the menagerie, though he usually got a scolding for talking to the snakes; Minnie claimed it would put him in danger, but he’s pretty sure the truth is that it freaked her out, and the unflappable professor despised being unsettled, even by her ward. “You always yell at me when we go to the Menagerie.”

“I _scold_ you, in a perfectly reasonable way, for speaking to the snakes. Parseltongue isn’t a common gift and many might try to exploit it.” this was said with a sense of deja vu— she said it every time Harry convinced her to take him. “Though it _is_ your birthday, so if I were to be preoccupied with the shoppe keeper, I may not notice.”

Harry wiggled with glee; it’s the little ways Minnie dotes on him, makes him work for it. They reached the edge of the wards, stepping past the gates, and the hiss of magic pulling away from him tickled his neck— the first time he had told her, Minerva had been surprised but delighted at his ward sensitivity, said it must’ve been due to his time in the castle.

“Take my hand, Harry.” Minerva extended her hand, and he clung on tightly with both of his— he hated Apparating.

The wrenching pull came from behind his navel, and he clenched his eyes shut as he was compressed beyond reason, before being spat back out in the Leaky Cauldron. He heaved a little bit, and Minerva pet his head consolingly, face sympathetic, “I know you dislike it, but the Floo always gives you allergies.”

Harry nodded, gaining his bearings as the desire to vomit subsided, replaced by the heady excitement that always permeated the alley, “I’m alright.” he grinned, “Where to first?”

Minerva studied him for a moment longer, before nodding, straightening again and leading Harry to the bricks, “Gringotts, we need to access the Potter accounts for your supplies.”

Harry wrinkled his nose— he didn’t _like_ using his inheritance, he didn’t need it! But he knew his protests would be futile, so he settled for whinging on a little as they entered the alley. He immediately tucked into Minnie’s side at the sight of so many people; normally, they came to the alley during quiet times, Minerva going when she wasn’t teaching and only briefly.

Her hand came to rest around his shoulders and head, squeezing his shoulder gently as he held onto her robes, “Alright, briskly now, watch your feet.” She kept him at her side as they waded through the crowds, and Harry self consciously tugged on his fringe: he knew that if they saw his scar, they’d kick up a fuss— it had happened a few times, and he hated it.

They reached Gringotts after a longer than normal walk— a large bumbling crowd had taken up residence across the road at one point, and they’d had to momentarily divert onto Dirun Alley, a snooty portion that Minerva avoided at all costs. Once they’d reached the bank, the presence of the Goblins seemed to keep the worst of the crowd at bay, and they were queued into the bank peacefully.

Gringotts was beautiful. Harry loved the soaring ceilings and marble— it felt like something out of the muggle fairy tales Minnie had read him as a child. He twisted this way and that, taking in the prestige and age as they moved along the queue, until they reached the frontmost podium.

“Ah, Miss McGonagall.” the lead Goblin spoke, his face twisted into a permanent sneer, “I see you have your little ward here. Do you have his key?”

“Indeed,” she fished it from her robes, a simple wrought iron thing with nicks in the handle— Minnie told him, the first time he asked, that she had found him teething on it, and that his magic had teethed too. She held the key up to the Goblin, who nodded.

“Griphook will escort you to the vault.” 

The squat goblin’s beady eyes studied Harry as they made their way to the carts, but Harry was too busy squirming, “Please don’t make me take the carts, they make me queasy and they’re terrifying.”

“I will protect you, Harry, not to worry.” Minnie said, “but you can’t stay up here. You have to be present so we can open the vault,” the apology was implicit in her tone, but Harry still didn’t like it. 

They got into the rickety cart, the goblin perched atop it with an ease Harry envied, while he burrowed into Minerva’s side, despite her amused huff, and clutched her robes and hid his face as her arm came protectively around him, spells gently tying him to the cart, “It’ll be fine,” she reassured.

The cart moved, and Harry didn’t emerge from his place at Minnie’s side until his various organs had caught up with them at the end of the ride, and he scampered to the solid stone beside the cart, trusting it far more than the ancient tracks. “All this magic, and we take a death ride to get money!” 

Minerva chuckled, the sound low and warm, “The goblins like it, and the ‘death ride’ makes it harder to steal from the bank— it is one of the most secure places in our world.”

The goblin harrumphed proudly, standing a little straighter as he used Harry’s key to open the Potter vault. The doors swung outward to reveal piles of Galleons and other possessions, portraits and furniture and books. It all made Harry uneasy— it’s not his, it’s a life he doesn’t know. “I still think this should be yours, Minnie.” he looked up at his guardian, catching one of her softer smiles.

“Lily and James left this to you, Harry. Someday, you might wish for the memories, and here they’ll wait until you do.” She pet his hair, her telling show of affection, before retrieving Harry’s coin pouch from within her robes and filling it slowly, consulting the supply list as she did.

Harry entered the vault while she counted, staring a little curiously at some of the boxes in the back— he hadn’t noticed those before. They were muggle boxes, the cardboard creaky and frail, the packing tape long since useless and limp. Harry opened a box carefully, and found— 

“Oh.” he breathed softly, something clenching in his chest at the sight of clothes. Soft, worn jumpers, lumpy and a bit faded, filled the box. He lifted one out slowly, and the navy wool caught in the lantern light, highlighting a tag with writing on it. He peered closer, squinting— he needed to update his glasses— and read out softly.

_“Lily J. Evans. 1971”_

“Your mother’s first year.” Harry jumped, realising Minnie had come to stand next to him, looking at the box, “She was your age when she wrote that.” Something about her smile seemed sad, grief-stricken. Harry was struck for the first time that Minnie must’ve taught them, his parents— he had never really thought of it before. She knew them, and from the look on her face, she had been fond. 

Harry looked at the worn jumper in his hands, realising it was only a bit bigger than he was, “I think I’ll bring this with me.” he said softly, gently closing the boxes for further exploration another day. 

They left the vault, and after a harrowing ride to the surface, Minerva shrunk the jumper and tucked it into her robes with the money, “Now, where would you like to go first? And not the Menagerie, that is last.” She cut off his initial request, smirking when he wrinkled his nose at her.

“Fine...Flourish and Blotts? I need the first year books, and that writer you like released a new book, I saw it in the Prophet. We can read it together!” Harry loved to read with Minerva— it was when she was the softest, allowing him to curl up on her lap, correcting his pronunciations gently, and letting him narrate the tales, only to abruptly be stopped and asked to explain what something was. 

“Alright, lead the way.” Minerva took his hand, and he led her along the alley, the crowd having cleared out, and they ducked into the book shoppe — and Harry sneezed _hard_ as dust tickled his nose. The sneeze sent him shooting a couple feet in the air as his magic reacted, and only Minnie’s quick wand work kept him from dropping into an ungraceful heap. He flushed as he realised eyes were on him, and tucked into his guardian, “Thank you.”

“With your allergies, I may take you to a muggle doctor, see if they can give you some medicine,” she huffed, “The healers are useless for you, it seems.”

Harry smiled, “I’ll get our book while you get the school ones? The shoppe keepers help you faster than me.” When Minerva nodded, Harry ducked under the teetering stacks, his tiny frame fitting through the crannies to navigate quicker— he had always been small for his age, no matter how much he ate.

He reached the aisle with Linnie Wolpers, and scanned the shelves— there! He reached up, straining on his tip toes, but it was _just_ out of reach…

“Oh, let me help you dearie!” A kind older woman bustled up, ginger hair catching the light as she reached over his head and easily grabbed the book, passing it to him with a smile, before she caught the title, “Heavens, this isn’t a book for little boys!” She looked up and down the aisle, “Where’s your mum, dear?”

“Minnie’s getting my books, I was getting hers!” Harry disliked being called little, and hugged the Wolpers text to his chest. The woman opened her mouth, but was suddenly interrupted by the sound of Minerva behind him, “Hello, Molly.”

The woman— Molly — broke into a grin, “Hello, Professor McGongall, it’s good to see you!” She gestured to Harry with a nod of her head, “I was just asking this young man why he was going for such a...heavy text.”

“Oh, did you find it Harry?” Minnie peered at the cover, and smiled, “Excellent, and look at the note! There’s a latin translation in the back. We can practice your cadence with this after we read it.” She glanced up at the woman, “Molly, Harry is my ward.” 

She was looking between Minerva, and Harry— or rather, his forehead, and he realised his forehead was exposed, “Goodness, how, how nice it is to meet you! I had heard rumors of course, that you were living at Hogwarts, but-well, I see why Fred and George spoke so highly of detention now.” 

“Fred and George?” Harry perked up, “You’re a Weasley!” he turned to Minnie, “The Weasleys are fun to play with.”

“Yes Harry, your play is their detention,” she said wryly, “and trust me when I say the amount of monitoring spells I have on you during theirs are legendary.” She nodded to Molly Weasley, before placing a guiding hand to Harry’s shoulder, “Come along Harry, we still have a lot to get.”

“Bye!” Harry called over his shoulder, before happily looking at the Wolpers cover.

The rest of their day went smoothly, and Harry got his wand! He accidentally set Minnie’s robes on fire a little bit in his excitement, but she indulged him with a smile— and flicked him on the nose, just the once. 

“Now, just into Madam Malkins for robes, then we can go to the Menagerie,” Minerva reassured, because Harry was getting peopled out and wanted a cup of tea at the castle, and to start on their book. “You head on in, I have to run an errand while you’re fitted, so we can leave a bit quicker, alright?” 

Harry nodded, ducking into the shoppe, the bell tinkling above his head as he took in the piles upon piles of fabric. A portly woman appeared from seemingly nowhere, “Hogwarts dear?”

Harry nodded, smiling, and she continued “Got the lot here— another young man being fitted just now, in fact. This way.”

Harry followed her into a back area behind a partition, where long mirrors leaned on the wall, and two stools were arranged evenly in front of them. On one stool, with fabric and a measuring tape flickering about him, was a strikingly fair boy, with shining white hair and a long nose. 

“Hello.” The boy said, “Hogwarts too?”

“Yes,” Harry said, watching the measuring tape that had begun to flit about him, standing straight to seem just a bit taller.

“My father’s next door buying my books and my mother’s up the street looking at wands.” the boy said, seemingly bored.

“I just got my wand!” Harry said, his excitement provoking another wiggle from him.

“Nice,” the boy said, before continuing, “I’m going to drag them off to look at racing brooms. I don’t see why first years can’t have their own. I think I’ll bully father into getting me on and I’ll smuggle it in somehow.” 

Harry didn’t think he’d be successful— months of whining at Minnie had only gotten him a cuff on the ear and an evening practicing his latin, so he didn’t think the blond stood a better chance.

“Have _you_ got your own broom?” The boy inquired.

“No, but Minnie said I might be able to get one second year if I do well.” Harry said, the thought sent a thrill through him— his own broom!

“Minnie? Is that your elf?” The boy asked imperiously, and Harry snorted.

“The elves don’t like me much. Minnie’s my guardian.” Harry said.

“Guardian? Haven’t you got parents?”

Harry startled at that, thinking of the jumper in Minnie’s robes, “No.”

“Oh.”

There was an awkward silence, until the boy spoke again, “Have you played Quidditch at all?”

“I wish! I’ve been too little, apparently.” Harry wrinkled his nose.

The boy seemed to brighten, bragging “_I_ have-Father says it’s a crime if I’m not picked to play for my house, and I must say, I agree. Know what house you’ll be in yet?” 

“Not really,” Harry said honestly, “I’m pretty ambivalent.”

If the word tripped the boy up, he didn’t show it, “Well, no one really knows until they get there, do they, but I know I'll be in Slytherin, all our family have been-imagine being in Hufflepuff, I think I’d leave, wouldn’t you?”

Harry shrugged, but before their conversation could continue, Minnie swept into the room, “Harry, are you done?” 

He looked at the woman, who nodded kindly, her measuring tape returning to its box as the newly finished robes folded themselves neatly, “Pleasure as always, Professor McGonagall.” she smiled at Minnie as she helped Harry down from his stool.

He turned to the blond before he could think better of it, “See you at school!” 

They left the shop, robes shrunk down, and Minnie smiled at him, “I see you made a friend.”

“He seems nice. A bit snooty though.” Minerva laughed, before leading him to the Menagerie.

“Now that our errands are done, I thought I’d give you your birthday present.” Harry squealed, Minnie’s presents were always great!

“Now, I spoke with Albus about some rules, and I had him waive one for you this year, but you have to be responsible, because if you abuse the privilege it’ll be taken just as quickly.”

Harry was practically dancing, it’s got to be a broom, it just _has_ to be— 

They entered the menagerie, and Harry stopped. Stared. Maybe started to cry.

On the counter, purchased and obviously planned, was a snake.

The little creature lifted its heads and looked at Harry, the left tongue flicking out as if tasting the air _“New masssster?”_

Harry looked at McGonagall eyes wide as saucers behind his glasses, and she nodded encouragingly. Harry stepped forward slowly, reaching a hand out carefully. _“Ifffff you’ll have me.”_ he hissed softly, aware that the shoppe was empty— that must’ve been her earlier errand.

The runespoor considered him for a moment, tongues flicking, before the left one reached out and rested its head on his hand, the right following suit— the third head had already been removed. The orange and onyx scales caught the lantern light and practically glowed, its deep green eyes luminous. _“Little masssster sssseems sssafe.”_

Harry was aware he was grinning like an idiot, but he braced himself as the little thing slithered up his arm, coming to rest curled around his shoulders, heads tucked under his chin. The snake was young, only a little under a foot in length. _“Are you male or fffffemale?”_

The left head considered, before answering, _“ffffemale, by your human sssstandardssss”_

_“Do you have a name?”_

The snake shook its right head this time, and Harry smiled, wondering what to call her.

“Are you happy, Harry?”

Harry looked at Minnie, eyes shining, “She’s perfect Minnie, thank you.” Harry’s hand trailed along her scales, the warm texture already comforting. She was _perfect_. Harry had been begging for a snake ever since he learned he could speak to them. 

“Now, you must care for her, make sure she eats and doesn’t harm anyone. She’s your responsibility, Harry.” she was trying to be stern, but the effect was somewhat muted by her grin.

A moment of inspiration struck, and he turned to his snake, the heads still blinking at him, the eyes perfect for it— _“Your name will be Lily.”_


	2. The Sorting

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, updates will be as I have time and the desire to write- lucky for you, this story is very violently demanding writing space in my brain.

“Harry, are you r— is your snake drinking tea?”

Harry poked his head through the top of his robes, pretty sure they weren’t on right, and spied Minerva in the door to his room, staring at Lily, whose right head was politely slurping her chai. Lily’s left head rose, _“it’sssss good.”_

“Is she not allowed to?” Harry asked instead, returning to the battle of fabric— his arm wasn’t emerging where it should…

“Honestly Harry, they’re just robes,” Minnie flicked her wand, and the robes righted themselves, rotating almost completely on his body to sit with a modicum of formality. The pointy hat on his head fluffed itself, the ridiculous thing too big and trying to slip down past his ears.

“Sorry Minnie,” Harry leant his arm down to Lily, who abandoned her tea in favour of winding up his arm to rest on his shoulders; she had grown in the past month, shedding her skin twice— the look of revulsion on Minnie’s face when she had accidentally stepped on the skin barefoot had sent Harry into peals of laughter.

“About that, Harry,” she sat to look him in the eye, “While we’re in official school settings, I need you to call me Professor, alright? I can’t show favouritism to students, even you.” She eyed him as he nodded, saying the words experimentally under his breath, and wrinkling his nose.

“Professor McGonagall sounds weird. Can I call you Professor Minnie?” He ducked as she went to cuff him on the ear as expected, giggling.

“The Hogwarts Express will have arrived by now, so it’s time to head down. Your trunk is all packed, yes?” at Harry’s nod, Minerva continued, “Good, the house elves will move it to whichever house you’re placed in after the sorting.” 

Harry’s stomach clenched uncomfortably at the reminder that he wouldn’t be staying in his room during the year. It shouldn’t bother him, it’s the same castle...but it was uncomfortable all the same.

Minnie mistook his look, and reassured him, “Harry, you’ll do well in whatever house you end up in. I can’t say I’m not rooting for Gryffindor,” she smiled wryly, “but you are not defined by whatever decision that hat makes, you need to understand that. It’s simply a way to give children with similarities the opportunity to connect.” She pet his hair once more, before straightening his hat, “Now, we do need to go downstairs.”

Harry followed her out of their rooms, tracing Lily’s scales absently while he thought nervously of the sorting— he’s lived here all his life, but he’s going to be a student. Lily’s tongues flicked out over his fingers, sensing his distress, _“calm, little massssster.”_  
_“I’m alright,”_ Harry said, trying to believe it, and Lily’s right head butted against his hand, requesting a gentle scratch.

They made it to the entrance hall just in time for the large doors to open, with Hagrid leading a swarm of students, and Harry wavered on the last step, nerves jangling at the sight of so many new faces. He searched for someone familiar...the boy from the robe shop! The blond was towards the back, nose turned up to the world, but his face spread into a small smile when he saw Harry, and with a look to Minnie, he made his way to the blond.

When he reached them, the blond gasped, “You have a snake!”

The chatter around them abruptly shifted as eyes locked on him and Lily, and she hissed with a bit of alarm; he had already told her not to bite anyone, but the attention was still unnerving. Minnie had told him not to speak parseltongue around the other students, so he settled for petting her scales to console her. “This is Lily, my runespoor.” He said to the boy, who looked delighted.

“May I pet her?” he asked, and with anod from Lily, he reached out gently, letting out a little noise of delight when the right head butted his hand, tongue flicking out over his fingers curiously, _“He’sssss ssssweet.”_

Harry smiled, opening his mouth to ask the boy’s name, when Minnie called for their attention at the front. She began the welcoming speech Harry had heard many times, describing the houses and the sorting. Then they were told to queue up, and head in. Harry’s nerves did a jig in his stomach as the doors to the Great Hall opened, and a wall of sound washed over them— all the other years. He knew some of these students, the seventh years would’ve played with him before...odd to think now he would be in classes just like them.

“Your guardian is the professor!” the blond whispered as they walked in, and Harry smiled shyly, too nervous to actually make conversation. The queue moved forward slowly, as names were called and students were placed. Harry watched the hat apprehensively— he knew that hat. It had sat in Dumbledore’s office for years, he’s played with it more than once...but where would it put him.

“Draco Malfoy!”

The blond smirked, chin jutted out proudly, and strutted to the hat. It had barely graced his head for a moment before it shouted, “SLYTHERIN!” With a smirk to Harry, he made his way to the Slytherin table— Harry remembered he had expected it, back at the robe shop. He watched the blond— Draco— for another moment, the way the light caught off that white hair.

“Harry Potter!”

The silence was deafening for a moment, before the Great Hall broke out into ferocious whispers. Harry made his way to the stool sheepishly, aware of all the eyes on him— including Draco’s, who looked gobsmacked.

He sat on the stool, and the hat descended over his eyes.

“Harry,” the hat greeted warmly, “My, you’ve grown since we last spoke. Congratulations on your snake, dear boy.” Harry smiled, comforted by the familiar voice, “Now, to sort you at last. Hm…” the hat was silent for a long moment, longer than normal, and Harry began to panic. Was something wrong? Was he not right for any of them?

“Tosh, you’re fine, Harry,” the hat reassured him, “In fact, you’d do perfectly well in any of the houses. My, the castle has been ingrained into your very bones. Excuse an old hat for taking a moment.”

Harry was aware of the sounds outside the hat; the whispers, the tense anticipation, Minnie’s curious hum. He felt their eyes on him, and he wanted to hide.

“Ah yes, ever so shy, you are. Gryffindor would be a bit much for you, there. Though your courage would fare well...hmm, best not, that. Apologies to dear Minerva.” The hat chuckled to itself, “Hmm, Ravenclaw would suit your curiosity, but I’ve seen your latin...no. My, you’re proving a tricky one.”

Harry’s hands were sweating, his heart beating fast, and he felt like he was panting.

“Ah, you’ve grown only more cunning since we last spoke. I believe Slytherin could suit you well, foster that ambition of yours. Unorthodox, but a good fit. Though I do still see Gryffindor as viable...hmph.” the hat huffed, seemingly stumped, “Given your time in the castle, I might as well ask: Where would you like to go?”

Harry’s eyes widened in the shadows of the hat— he never considered that he might get to choose. He quickly catalogued what he knew about the houses, and impulsively blurted, “Slytherin.”

“Oh?” The hat crooned, “a particular reason?” 

Harry thought of Draco’s face, the delight at petting Lily, and the hat chuckled, “I thought that might be why. Alright, little Harry, so it’ll be.” The hat cleared its imaginary throat, “SLYTHERIN!”

The hat is lifted from Harry’s head, and he blinks at the sudden bright light, realising that the Hall was almost dead silent, all eyes staring at him— some shocked, some angry, some confused. Harry flushed and got down, stumbling a little on the hem of his robes as he made his way to the Slytherin table— what did Minnie think of him? She said it would be alright, but she had wanted him in Gryffindor…

The only person who didn’t seem startled was Draco, who looked elated, which made Harry feel better. He sat down beside the blond, who immediately leaned in close, “You didn’t say you were Harry Potter!” he whispered excitedly, and Harry ducked his head, blushing a bit.

“Didn’t think it mattered,” he mumbled, and Draco bumped his shoulder, earning a reproachful hiss from Lily, who unwound from his shoulders and slithered down his arm, curling into his lap with her heads resting on the table.

“We’re in Slytherin together!” Draco seemed excited, and it coaxed a small smile out of Harry. Draco continued to whisper excitedly through the sorting, and Dumbledore’s welcoming speech, and suddenly the Hall flooded with noise as the food appeared. Lily hissed delightedly, her right head diving for a plate. Harry snatched her, _“Mannersss,”_ he admonished quietly, before realising his mistake as Draco gasped. 

He looked at Draco with wide eyes, “Don’t say anything,” he whispered panickedly, Minnie was going to kill him.

Draco’s mouth opened, closed, before he nodded, “Does she need a plate?” he nodded to Lily, and Harry took the conversation gratefully. They piled a plate high with chicken and a glass of milk, setting it between them for Lily to enjoy— which she did gladly, one head eating and the other drinking greedily. 

“So, have you lived at Hogwarts this whole time?” Draco asked, and Harry nodded, smiling.

“We used to live in Hogsmeade, but we came up here when I was four.”

“Wow! You probably know all the material, then,” Draco said a little enviously, and Harry laughed.

“I know stuff, but Minnie— Professor McGonagall.” Harry caught himself, eyeing the head table, where his guardian simply smirked at him, obviously having heard. “She wouldn’t let me practice spells until I got my own wand, and wouldn’t let me get a wand until I was eleven.”

“That’s unfair!” Draco whinged on his behalf, and Harry agreed, “But I bet you know all the theory and stuff!”

They got into discussions of theory— Draco was almost intimidatingly smart, Harry found— and before Harry realised, dinner was ending and they were being called by their prefects. The anxiety from earlier got Harry by the throat, and he held Lily desperately as she curled around his shoulders, heart pumping.

“I’m-,” Harry started, then stopped. Draco turned to look at him, concerned, and saw his fear.

“Go to the Professor,” he said quietly, “I’ll distract Snape for you.”

Harry took the offer gratefully, impulsively reaching out and squeezing Draco’s hand once before ducking into the crowd, using his size to slink through and away without notice. He made it to Minerva’s rooms and curled on the sofa for a moment, heart thundering. Lily stretched along the sofa, and flicked her tongue at an empty tea cup. Tea! Tea’s a good idea. Harry got the kettle going with three cups out— one for him, one for Minnie, one for Lily, spoiled girl.

He went into his room, and saw that his trunk was gone— but Lily’s jumper was still on his desk. In a moment of sentimentality, he shucked his robes and pulled the blue wool over his head, the sleeves covering his hands comfortingly.

When Minnie entered a few minutes later, she stopped short at the sight of Harry on her sofa, Lily stretched behind him, and her tea waiting on the end table. “Harry,” she said, “You aren’t supposed to sneak away from the prefects. It hasn’t even been a night.” she admonished him, taking the offered tea anyway. Then she noticed his face, “What’s wrong?”

To his horror, teas started to burn at the back of his eyes, “I didn’t-,” he stopped, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat, “I don’t wanna sleep away from home. I don’t want everything to change.”

Minnie’s face softened, and she pulled him to her, hugging him and petting his hair, “Harry, Hogwarts is your home, no matter where in the castle you stay. I am always right here,” she sighed, “Nothing is changing, not really. You’ve always known you’d be a student here eventually. And you have your friend, and you have Lily, and you’ll have Severus as a head of house.” She pulled away, looking into his face, “I understand it scares you, but that doesn’t mean it’s _bad_. Different isn’t _bad_.”

Harry nodded, sniffling, slightly embarrassed that he had burst into tears, and Minerva cupped his cheek, sighing, “I will send word to Sverus, if you would like to sleep here one more night.” At Harry’s grin, she grew stern, “Only tonight, then you need to acclimate to Slytherin, alright?” She softened again at his chagrin, “Don’t think that because you’re not a Gryffindor I am any less proud of you, okay?”

With one last long, tight hug, Minnie shooed him off to bed, and he curled up in his four poster, Lily on his head— she refuses to accept that his head isn’t her pillow— and he fell into a blissfully dreamless sleep.


End file.
